Bones of the Dragon - Margaret Weis [150]
The moon rose higher, and still Wulfe lingered on the ship. Then he saw the lights—torchlights, coming across the bridge over the marshland. He froze like a rabbit did when it saw the fox. He could make a run for the woods, but the moonlight was bright on the white sand beach, and the druids had very good eyesight. They would spot him instantly, and they would know it was him, for all good children were in their beds.
Wulfe couldn’t bear the thought of disappointing the elder. He’d done something very wrong, and this time the punishment might be more severe than usual. He decided he would wait until the druids did whatever it was they had come to the beach to do, and then he would sneak off the ship and race back to his dwelling. He would climb in through the window while the elder slept. Wulfe hunkered down on the deck among the sea chests.
He couldn’t see from his vantage point, but he could hear, and he sucked in a dismayed breath when he heard water splashing.
The druids were boarding the ship!
He looked about frantically for a better place to hide, and there was the ladder that led to the dwelling place below. He scrambled across the deck, tumbled down the ladder, and dived into the pile of furs, pulling them over his head.
He heard footsteps on the deck above him. He could hear people talking, and he recognized the voices of the elder and some of the men of the settlement.
“Carry the young man belowdeck,” said the elder. “He is badly injured. I will tend his wounds.”
Wulfe heard another voice, one he did not recognize, a woman’s voice, low and rich.
“Bah! Let him bleed a little,” said the woman. “He deserves to suffer. Pain will do him good.”
“Death, on the other hand, will not,” the druid said mildly.
Wulfe heard feet coming his way, and he snuggled deep among the furs. The young man they were carrying must have been heavy, for they had difficulty negotiating the ladder. They managed, or so he assumed, for he could hear them deposit their burden on the deck. Then they clomped back up the ladder and reported to the druid that they had laid the young man on his bed.
The boy peeped out cautiously from the furs.
“Skylan did show courage. He tried to rescue her,” the elder remarked. “The older man basely fled.”
“That is true,” the woman said. “Skylan did try to save Draya, at the risk of his own life. I must admit I did not expect him to do that.”
“He is lucky,” the druid said, sighing. “The spirits of the woods were extremely angry.”
“Skylan has Torval to thank for his survival,” the woman replied. “Though I doubt he will find much cause to be grateful.”
“You have entered the body of Draya in order to hide from your enemies, Vindrash,” the elder remarked. “Do you also plan to torment this young man with guilt?” He sounded disapproving.
“Skylan is a weapon in Torval’s hand. The god demands the finest steel, and this young Skylan is of poor quality, brittle and liable to break. He must prove himself or Torval will throw him on the scrap heap.”
Feet walked across the deck. Wulfe heard splashes in the water. The men were leaving the ship. He was about to slip out of his hiding place, when he heard the woman’s voice and he realized she and the elder were still on board.
“We will honor Draya’s memory,” the druid was saying. “Her spirit now dwells in peace with her gods. She will hear our hymns of praise, and when you have no more need of her mortal form, Blessed Vindrash, we will return her body to her people.”
“I thank you for everything you have done, Elder.” The woman’s voice was soft, no longer grim and harsh. “I know acting out the sacrifice was not an easy thing for you or your people.”
“We do not believe in human sacrifice,” the druid said severely. “I had to keep reminding myself that we were slaying a goddess, one who could not be slain. Even then I found it horrible to witness. I fear the dreadful sight will scar my people.”
“Your people saw the moonlight shining down on a glade and a foolish young man battling a tree,” said Vindrash. “Nothing more.”
“Yet I